rosmarinus
by Immoroita
Summary: so she crouches down and bears the weight of the world alone. [a study in flowers]


**Author's Note:** Petunia has always been a character of great controversy, and one that I've always found very interesting.

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** so she crouches down and bears the weight of the world alone. [a study in flowers]

* * *

**i.** _syringa vulgaris – _[lilac **;** joy of youth]

* * *

She sits on an old, rotting log, and watches Lily swing back and forth like a pendulum. Petunia draws her knobby knees up to her chin and hugs them, pale gray eyes following the almost hypnotizing movement.

The swing goes dangerously high and Petunia stands up quickly, a gray, colorless wisp of a thing who looks as though she could be blown away with a single puff of breath. She can suddenly tell that something huge is about to happen – something amazing.

"Lily!"

The word falls from her lips just as Lily whoops and flies up into the air in a graceful arc, shimmering blue dress fluttering behind her, and lands lightly on the ground. She flies far too high, stays up for far too long, and lands far too delicately for it to be real.

Her sister's thick, dark red hair floats around her shoulders in a diaphanous cloud as she turns quickly to face Petunia. Emerald eyes glint in the soft golden sunlight as her head tilts to the side questioningly, a mischievous smile on her face. "What is it, Tuney?"

Petunia's jaw slackens and she stares at her sister in disbelief. Lily bounds over to Petunia and takes her hands excitedly, bouncing up and down. She's only a few years younger, but Lily is already the same height as Petunia. "Tuney! Tuney! You saw that, right? I bet you can do it, too! Come on!"

Disbelief replaced with blind excitement, the mousy girl nods eagerly and races over to the swing as Lily watches, standing on the log that Petunia had been sitting on previously and yelling out words of encouragement.

Petunia looks up at the blue sky as she swings fearlessly, feeling like she could fly right up into eternity, and does exactly as Lily had previously when she reaches the peak of her curve, feeling her stomach drop as she spins in the air.

(She flies, but she does not float.)

* * *

**ii.** _alcea rosea _– [hollyhock **;** ambition]

* * *

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

Petunia stares down at the paper and shakes her head firmly, ripping it out of her notebook and starting again on a fresh page.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore:_

No, that's no good either. She rips the page out and begins again.

_Professor Dumbledore:_

Oh, well, that would have to do.

_Please let me come to your school. I am pretty smart, I think, and even though I don't really know if I can do magic yet, I bet I can with the proper training. My sister, Lily, got a letter, so if you'd send one to me, too, I would be really happy. I hope you can consider._

_- Petunia Evans_

The girl chews on her pencil thoughtfully, reads the letter a million times over, and is about to sneak it into the envelope that contains Lily's response to the school, when her mother pokes her head in and smiles kindly at her older daughter. "Dinner, Petunia."

"Coming," Petunia responds, leaving the letter haphazardly on her desk, and goes downstairs for dinner.

Over the homemade lasagna and the pink lemonade, Petunia eyes Lily with a slight hint of spite in her expression as her sister talks animatedly about all the wonderful things she's learned about Hogwarts from the Headmaster's letter.

Soon enough, she'll be able to do the things that Lily can.

(She does receive a letter back, and although she tears it open with eager hands, all that's there is one sentence on a page stained with kindly tears.

_Oh, I am sorry, my dear Miss Evans.)_

* * *

**iii. **_hyacinthus orientalis _– [hyacinth **;** jealousy]

* * *

Petunia doesn't want to see Lily off. Why should she, when Lily has done so many more wonderful things than she? She's just not worthy of her marvelous sister's time. Of course she isn't.

After the first year at the train station, Petunia stops going. Every summer, she locks herself in her room and ignores the fact that her parents are throwing so much love and care at their youngest daughter and slowly are beginning to forget their older one.

Very quietly, all by her lonesome, a swallow cooped up in a dark room, a cold layer of ice spreads across Petunia's heart and the once-beating organ fades into a still, unmovable void. Lily grows into a vibrant, feisty young woman, and Petunia grows into a bitter, isolated old one.

She leaves for university and gets engaged to a man named Vernon Dursley whom she despises but marries anyway because she's managed to delude herself into thinking nobody will ever love her. She immediately snaps up the first person who shows even slight interest in her, because honestly, what is someone as bland as her, when compared to Lily? Nothing, of course. Petunia is nothing. Not when compared to her beautiful sister.

Petunia dances around the topic of her family when she talks to Vernon, who is only interested in two things: money, and complaining about people. She's glad that he doesn't pry too much, because Petunia's never been good at telling other people about herself. She prefers to keep it all inside.

(The one time they meet Lily and James, she strives to paint Lily in the worst light possible, lest Vernon become one of her adoring fans as well.)

* * *

**iv. **_dianthus caryophyllus _– [red carnation **;** aching heart]

* * *

Dudley, their son, becomes Petunia's prime reason to live. Showering him in all the love that her parents never gave her is her top priority – as soon as she first holds him in her arms, she knows that there can never be too much affection that she can bestow upon this red-cheeked, chubby little child that belongs to her and her alone.

One morning, Petunia opens the door to take the milk and gasps in horror, a hand flying to her mouth. There, on her porch, lies a baby in a basket, wailing loud enough for the entire neighborhood to see. Petunia takes the basket quickly, looking around discreetly to make sure that nobody has seen her, and closes the door quietly.

There's a note lying in the basket, nestled within the warm, silky blankets, and the frail woman picks it out. She scans the note and her face turns pale at the sudden, shocking news that her sister and her brother-in-law are both dead.

A numb sensation washes over her as she gives the note to Vernon and explains everything. He knows about the magic that runs in the baby's veins, of course, and they stare at little Harry Potter mutely for a long time. Finally, Vernon resolves that they ought never to tell him about his heritage, and that he should have the magic crushed out of him. Petunia nods her head vigorously in response to everything Vernon says (as usual) and says nothing further about it.

Harry is put in the spare room, which is very empty and very cold. Petunia lingers by the door uncertainly, a twinge of guilt in her heart when she hears the baby sniffle a little, but Vernon assures her it is fine, closes the window loudly so the wind doesn't blow in too much, and shuts the door firmly.

Oh, and Petunia agrees with him, as she always does.

That night, Petunia wakes and rifles through her bedside drawer, ignoring the loud snores that Vernon produces from next to her, and takes out a photograph of Lily that her sister gave her. It is magic, and so her husband doesn't know about it. Lily smiles brightly at her and waves cheerfully, lips forming words that Petunia can't make out.

Petunia stares down at the picture, then crumples it up, tosses it into her drawer and never looks at it again.

(Lily's saying 'I love you', of course, but Petunia refuses to acknowledge it.)

* * *

**v. **_solanaceae _– [petunia **;** resentment]


End file.
